3. there's a reason I askwhether you're grey(dark white, elusively black, in between)or blue (behind the clouds, under wave-foam, whateverthefuck runs through the back of mypalms); I'd rather have youthan the arms that once held you half-heartedly. you had always been my harmony and Iwould have killedto have been yours.

4. it could never have been just me, the wayit could never have been justher.

5. disasters are not beautiful,but how is it that youmanaged to make my inner liningsconverge into bowsand explode into wings the verynight you decided to rebuild your wallsto a lower height?

6. I wish this wasn'tabout you.

7. I wish every part of meand my sickly, spineless-book selfhad been about you.

I was caught by this piece the moment I finished reading the second point.

To tell you the truth, I don't have anything in particular to say about how I felt with this piece, other than it being something... strongly written. I wound up reading it two times, and then I made a recording, while reciting this poem.

this is just absolutely lovely, you are fantastic <3 there's always this sort of air about your words, i don't know how to explain it, but it's just wonderfully perfect and it never fails to take my breath away c:

I wish I could be the one to catch you every time you fell and that I always carried a spare raft with me for every time the waves would take you under, but when the juries out to get you you can only play on the defense wishing you could be on front lines in the region that borders your happiness and everything that would dare wish to take that away. Honey your greatest enemy is that which is most familiar to you and not some foreign invader but reflection along the waves. Learn to love yourself Cass and everything else will fall into place.

though that's an important lesson, knowing my place and where this came from, I'll have to say this lesson doesn't apply here. you can love yourself as much as you want but at some point, when the bs brims and comes crawling through the door, owning yourself feels a lot like violating yourself. things don't fall into place so easily.

The reason is when you have enough self-love (not to be confused with pleasure but love) no matter what BS comes crawling through some shit clogged sewers you'll always have a raft to keep you floating above the stress or sadness. Its something learned just like everything else, its also something you have to build and put effort in to get better at just like anything else. ┐Capisce? Anyways its definitely a skill worth working for because improve here and then improve there.

Shitty lists? No. The most honest sort of lying? Yes. Poetry, in my eyes, is an artistic, beautiful way to tell lies (can anything ever truly be honest?) and you have perfected the art in a way that even those who are not poets, those who speak in clear lines instead of tangled webs of images, even they can relate. Your poetry is amazing. And this is much more than a "shitty list".